


Edge of the Embers

by Judgementaldiscontent (TheEdgeOfDeliriousness)



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEdgeOfDeliriousness/pseuds/Judgementaldiscontent
Summary: “I thought I had lost you,” he repeated softly. “You were there… and then you were gone. They left you behind, and I let them. I would have given anything…”“I'm here,” she replied in the same soft voice. She wasn't sure if she was meant to be reassuring him or herself.





	1. Chapter 1

A hand reached out to touch her cheek, drawing her attention away from the plumes of smoke that curled just beyond the window. She leaned into the feeling as a pair of fingers brushed across her skin, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a brief moment. The sight of a city in flames had her opening them again before the image could fully form in her mind. Immediately, she sought out the sympathy in the eyes of the man whose fingers were now tracing the line of her neck where it met her shoulder. A short burst of deplorability bloomed in her mind, despising the wish to be consoled like a child before her overwhelming need of it washed away everything else. 

“You should come to bed,” he whispered, his hand never stilling on her skin. “Staring at it won't help anything.”

“So you can sleep through a fire?”

The hand came to an abrupt halt as he pulled it away, dragging a sigh of frustration from each of their lips. Her own hand was reaching toward him before she could stop herself. When her mind caught up with her actions, the urge to drop it tugged the same hand back to her side. He watched her, fingers twitching with the pain of keeping them still while he longed to comfort her again. When the feeling became too much to bear, he turned away from the window and ran the fingers through his hair to push it away from his eyes. 

“It's not burning anymore.”

His voice had been dulled by the change of direction, but the words still rang clearly in her ears. The truth of them did nothing to purge the ache that had drilled its way into her heart. It pulsed through her veins like a living thing, scorching her as the fire had the city. The only difference was that this thing’s weapon was not heat, but a sullen sense of hopelessness. 

“There's nothing we can do about it,” he continued wearily. “The way I see it, we can either sleep or drink. And we’ve already run out of vodka.” 

“Those people…”

“More of those people will die if we can't figure out a way to help them. And you can't do anything on no sleep. Trust me, I've tried.”

She snorted, near delirious, and turned away as her arms crossed over her chest. Stepping away from the window, she collapsed onto the couch a few feet away. Tears began to slip from her lashes while her head fell into her hands. She bit her lip in an attempt to ward off the sobs, the noise filtering out instead in a rush of pathetic whimpers. 

He was with her instantaneously, drawn to her by the sound of her pain. He sat beside her on the edge of the couch, his unconscious mind pulling her closer as his arms engulfed her in a calming warmth. When all her tears had been spilled, she found herself leaning against him, head tucked neatly into the crook of his neck. One arm had latched itself around her waist, having been responsible for moving her closer, most of her body now held to his chest. His other arm had taken up its previous position on her cheek, thumb caressing her skin in soothing circles while his other fingers cradled her head. 

“I know I'm not funny, but I didn't think it was this bad.” 

Her head turned slightly as she attempted to bury both a blush and a smile against the heat of his skin. A small smile of his own quirked the edge of his mouth upwards. 

“I thought I had lost you,” he said, his words falling back into the hushed tone he had taken earlier. The sudden seriousness in his voice dimmed her smile, but she didn't pick her head up to look at him. She was afraid of the tears she might have found lingering there. 

“I thought I had lost you,” he repeated softly. “You were there… and then you were gone. They left you behind, and I let them. I would have given anything…”

“I'm here,” she replied in the same soft voice. She wasn't sure if she was meant to be reassuring him or herself. 

“You should've been here earlier. We shouldn't have- I shouldn't have… you didn't deserve this.” 

“Does anyone?”

They both fell into a deep silence. 

“I am here. That's all that matters.” 

“But it isn't,” he murmured, grip tightening on her thigh where his hand had come to rest. She flinched briefly out of reflex before relaxing again. It took a moment for her to silently reaffirm that she was no longer trapped in a forest, or fighting for her life.

“No; it never is,” she said. Despair had crept into her voice once more, and she fought to push it away. She sat up straighter, careful not to dislodge his hands as she craved the comfort of his touch. His eyes fell from her, studying the pattern of the fabric they were seated on. It wasn't until she had balled a hand into the front of his shirt and tugged him just the slightest bit forward that she caught his attention again. 

Their eyes locked for a long minute, each studying the emotions that swam there. 

“I'm here,” she told him again. “I'm not lost or gone. We're here, together. Everything else can wait.”

“For now,” he agreed quietly. “Now is all I need.”

He leaned forward this time, brushing noses with her as his hand moved to cradle the back of her head instead. The first touch of his lips to hers was a brief pause, as he waited for her to pull away, or for the dream to shatter and prove itself to be merely his imagination. She must have felt it too, for she made no move to rush him. A small part of his mind began to wonder if this had been something that had cruelly haunted her dreams in the time they had been separated, as it had his over the course of the months. 

They each pushed their thoughts aside as he captured her mouth completely, focusing on this sole point of contact. The gentle movement of his tongue against her was an instant relief for them both. A short moment later, he had pulled away. The desire for the simplest of pleasures had been sated within each of their minds, and her empty hand came up to cover his as it continued to caress her cheek. She smiled at him, a real smile, sparking the purest of happiness in his heart, and prompting an equal smile in return. 

The world spun on around them, but for the moment they were oblivious to its terrors, lost in the sensation of each other.


	2. Chapter 2

After another hour of quiet, and a few drinks, they had found themselves in his room, crawling into the bed. He had offered her an old shirt he had found lying in one of the drawers, which she had taken, all too glad to be rid of any remnants of her time away. With shoes kicked off and each of them more comfortable, he had lain down and pulled open the blanket, waiting for her to settle herself against his chest. Even with the plane having taken off, a tender silence had fallen around them. 

She took a step towards the bed, fingers grasping at the shirt that hung just over her knees. He had made room for her once more and held his arms open to invite her closer. Her head tilted to one side as she gazed down at him, some thought flowing through her mind which must have made its way to her face. He grimaced at the sight of it, extended hand returning to rub its way across his forehead as he sighed. 

“You need to sleep,” he told her firmly. “You don't have to stay if you don't want to.” 

“What happened to your aversion to people, professor,” she taunted gently, an old and forgotten smirk lighting her eyes. His head ducked shyly as his eyes fell away, although her near smile had brought a small one to his own lips. 

“I definitely do not have any sort of aversion to you.”

“So, you'd take me over a torrential rainstorm?”

He chuckled at her, holding his arm out once more as she took another step closer. She moved aside the sheets and sat beside him, leaning into his waiting arm. As she rolled herself over to tuck her head against his shoulder, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss against her hair. He was still smiling when he pulled the blanket over her and wrapped his arm around her torso to pull her closer. 

“Any day.” 

They lay there together for a few minutes, his hand running across her back and occasionally toying with her hair. She sighed contently, her fingers working their way beneath his shirt by wiggling in the space between the buttons. His breath caught in his throat the first time they brushed against the skin beneath, and he suddenly found himself struggling to even his breathing and clear his mind. Even with her eyes closed, a teasing smile had found its way onto her face, as if she knew exactly the sort of effect she was having on him. 

“What happened to sleeping,” he asked breathlessly after she had spent near half an hour teasing him. “I meant it, you need to rest.” 

“I am resting.”

“Oh really? If you call this resting, then I-”

His words were cut off as she sat up, forcing her mouth against his with no resistance. They moved together as she maneuvered herself up without breaking the kiss, tumbling into his lap while her arms rose around him. He kept a hold on her waist to steady her while his other hand found itself retracing its earlier path on her cheek, moving across her skin and down over her neck. Her mouth roamed his as she supported himself on his shoulder, leaning down as her hand began to work the buttons away from the fabric of his shirt. 

Once she had managed to open most of the buttons, she rocked backward to shift her weight. With both hands now free, she grabbed at the shirt, forcing it down over his shoulders. Her fingers trailed across the exposed skin, still intently focused on kissing him. His sharp inhale at her touch did not distract her, instead prompting a new wave of aggressiveness as her fingers tightened around his bare arm. This time, when he gasped, there was a push to accompany the sound, forcing her away from him as gently as he could manage. 

“What, what's wrong,” she gulped, running a hand through her hair as she watched him. He had sunk back into the pillows as he stared at a fixed spot across the room, refusing to look at her. Her hand unconsciously traced across her arm again, catching her attention when he flinched away. “Mitch…”

“I umm… had a rough time while you were gone.” 

He shifted again, tugging his shirt back on before she had the chance to stop him. She grabbed his hands, forcing them away with the same gentle care he had moved her. He couldn't watch as she dragged the sleeves down fully, flinching again as she gasped. He could see her hand at her mouth through the corner of his eye while the other was lightly touching the skin just under one of the scars. 

“Mitch,” she breathed softly, “what were you thinking?”

“That maybe depression, drinks, and a knife don't go so well together.”

“This isn't funny,” she hissed, furiously wiping at the tears that had started to pool in her eyes. “What were you thinking?”

“It's not important, not anymore.”

“Yes, it's important. How could you do this?”

“Jamie,” he sighed, moving again. He sat up, an arm still out to steady her, and leaned forward. She was crying now, as hard as she might be trying to stop it. He felt guilty all over again, recalling memories of pain and desperation. 

“I can't explain this, in any sort of way that sounds right. Please, don't cry over it. Jamie… I don't deserve your tears.”

She bit her lip and looked up at him, his eyes hovering just a few inches from hers. She thought about how he had told her about Chloe, only a few hours ago, and felt guilty herself upon realizing that her death seemed so much smaller compared to the pain she knew Mitch had gone through. Her head fell forward slowly until their foreheads touched. She found herself continuing to stare into his eyes, making sure that through their closeness he had no choice but to look at her. 

“Yes,” she whispered, cradling his head, “you do. You matter, and this… this is important. And all my fault… Mitch, I'm so sorry.” 

“You weren't the one holding the knife.” 

“I don't care.”

“Well, I do. You can't blame yourself for the crash.” 

She fell quiet, and they sat there together in the wake of the silence. Eventually, he leaned back again, collapsing onto the pillows and pulling her down with him. She stretched her legs as she got comfortable, her head resting on his chest and his arms around her. She latched her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her. 

“When was the last time,” she asked softly, once they had settled themselves together. 

“The night you called me before I went to the bar.”

“And… since then?”

“I haven't felt the need.” 

“Will you again?”

He tilted his head down, kissing the top of her head. 

“No, not with you here.”


End file.
